


Well Done, Martin: You've Pulled.

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Douglas' Smuggling: A Marlas Series [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Lingerie, M/M, Naked Cuddling, One Night Stands, Rimming, Size Kink, pansexual!Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To pull: vrb, British use primarily:<br/>1. To kiss someone; to initiate a seduction, particularly with a stranger or near-stranger.<br/>2. To bring someone home in order to have sex with them, particularly with a stranger or near-stranger.</p><p>Insert for between Chapters 3 and 4 of And I Started Just Over A Year Ago With A Cheese Sandwich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Done, Martin: You've Pulled.

The beach party is busy enough, and Martin uncertainly makes his way to sit at the bar - a construction of spare wood and bamboo, made for the occasion, he expects.

"Hi there. What can I get you?" The girl grins at him, and he offers a shy smile.

"Uh, just- I mean, a Coke, do you have...?"

"Sure!" She turns away and bends to catch a can from the minifridge, and Martin does his best not to stare too awfully at the bronze flesh of her bikini-clad backside. _God_. If he were anything like confident, would he be like Douglas in these situations? "Here." He takes it, handing her the dollars, and she smiles. "You on vacation?"

"Oh, no, I- I'm a pilot, I was on a job-" He trails off, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Aw, that's awesome!" She's very pretty when she smiles.

"Who's this, Lani?" Martin's mouth falls open - this man is tall and broad, and he has tattoos and muscles and he is not wearing a shirt, and Martin needs to close his mouth but can't quite remember how. Is _everyone_ in Hawaii this attractive?

"Oh, Mikey, this is- sorry, what's your name?"

"Cap-Captain Cri-ie-ie-ieff, but, I mean, don't call me - not what you can't call me - I'm not telling you, um, what to do-" Mikey is staring at him perplexedly, as is Lani. "Martin." He chokes out his own name, and wonders why on earth he's so _terrible_ at talking to people.

"Captain? You're a pilot, huh?" Martin lets out a slightly strangled noise of assent, nodding. Mikey's thumb touches the side of Martin's hand, and Martin presses his legs together, stiffens and feels his cheeks go warm.

“Uh-huh, yes, I am- I am- that is what I am.”

“You like getting called Captain?” This guy must be five years younger than him at the very _least._ He's mid-twenties, and Martin wonders why in God's same he's using his impressive height to tower over Martin as opposed to someone more matched in regards to- well, basic aesthetics.

“I, I mean- I don't like- it's not that I-”

“No, I mean-” Mikey leans in, so that his mouth is against Martin's ear, and his breath is warm and slow and the sensation is one that Martin has missed for _so long._ “Do you like to be called _Captain?”_ He's put on a low voice, husky and seductive, and Martin lets out a noise that's a whimper more than anything.

“I would- I mean, I'd rather you called me Martin.” Mikey's mouth is dragged along Martin's jawline, and just to steady himself on the barstool he puts a hand on the other's hip, taking in a quiet gasp.

“Do you mind if I...?”

“I'm sure I wouldn't mind no matter what you did.” Martin blurts against the other man's hair, and Mikey _laughs_ – it's a low sound, pleasing, and then the younger man sucks a mark at the hollow of Martin's neck, making blood bloom on the skin as a new bruise.

It feels _spectacular,_ and the noise Martin lets out is humiliating.

“You want to get out of here?”

“ _Yes._ ” And Martin follows the man immediately, leaving his Coke forgotten on the barside, still unopened. He doesn't really pay attention to where they actually go – he sort of comes back into focus when they're in a room with a bed and both have kicked their shoes off, and he grasps desperately at the other's trousers, undoing them as best he can.

He isn't satisfied until Mikey is naked, and then his hand is on the other's cock – and good God, it's _thick_ , even if it's not the longest Martin's ever seen, and he wants it in his _mouth_ approximately ten minutes ago.

“Ah ah ah- you gotta return the favour.” Mikey grins down at him and then begins undoing Martin's shirt, throwing it aside after sliding it off the other man's shoulders. Then his mouth is on Martin's neck again, and it's bite after bite and it's _perfect_ , and Martin can't help but arch into the touch just for the _contact._

He'd meant to wear the chemise initially, but his shirt had proved more transparent, and he definitely wasn't confident enough to _advertise_ his underwear. So, when Mikey's thumbs hook in his jeans and he begins to undo them, Martin is trepidatious, unsure.

“Oh, what have we _here_?” And this Mikey man must have special powers, because Martin's never been able to get skinny jeans off as fast as _he_ just managed it. “ _God._ Are all pilots this _hot_?”

Martin lets out a _whine_ , because Mikey thrusts him back and then is mouthing over Martin's cock through black lace, and it feels _weird_ and strange and foreign and Martin can't help but _wriggle_ until Mikey puts his hands on Martin's hips, keeping him still.

“Mi-Mi- _Mi-_ ” His tongue just keeps _moving_ , and Martin's hard and aching a little with it, and he's going to come _very_ soon indeed if this guy doesn't stop being so _fantastic._ “Please-”

“Oh, say _please_ again.” Mikey says against the inside of Martin's thigh, and then he _bites_ at the flesh, and Martin will be limping tomorrow if he keeps doing that and couldn't care _less._ Mikey flips him at the hips, so that Martin is spread on his front and his cock is pressed against the bed with a _delightful_ fabric between it and the surface.

Mikey lavishes bites and marks all over Martin's arse, all over the backs of his thighs, and then he pulls down Martin's brief and _puts his tongue against Martin's_ _ **arsehole**_. Martin doesn't think he's ever screamed so loudly or so quickly bit down on his own hand in his life.

It's a foreign sensation, utterly new to him, and it's heat and wet and it's _electrifying_ , and Martin comes biting down hard on his own hand and crying out around it. And God help him, Mikey continues, thrusting his tongue _in_ and Martin is _yowling_ , and when Mikey finally stops Martin is left breathing heavily, feeling the ache to the new bruises on his body and wondering why in God's name the other man had to _stop._

“I wanna- I wanna-” Martin sits up slowly, trying to catch back his breath, and when he struggles to vocalize – well, _anything,_ he settles for grasping the other man by the hip and positioning him to sit on the edge of the bed. “P-put your hands- I mean, if you want, I don't mind if you- hands- my hair-” The sentence had been disjointed and slightly nonsensical, but that doesn't really matter.

Martin dips and drags his tongue up the other's cock and tastes salt and musk and Christ, he hasn't touched another man's prick in _five years,_ hasn't fucked another person for _three._ He's desperate about it, dragging his mouth, his lips, his tongue, up and down the shaft before tonguing over the other's balls, and then he replaces the wet heat of his tongue with his hands instead.

Martin's always been an ambitious fellow, after all.

He wraps his mouth around the other's head and pushes _down_ , and he can take the bastard halfway only but that's acceptable without practice, and Mikey lets out a choked moan that offers such satisfaction Martin groans around him: the vibrations serve as very pleasurable indeed, evidently, because Mikey finally puts his _hand_ in Martin's _hair,_ tight and pulling on the follicles and it's absolutely _perfect._

When Mikey comes it tastes _awful,_ but Martin swallows quickly and then he puts his temple against Mikey's knee, resting there for a few moments.

“Do you wanna- I mean, if you got a flight I get it but if you wanna sleep...?” Martin blinks up at him, and he nods, taking the invitation, and climbs up onto the bed.

And God, somehow this is better than the sex. It's _contact_ , contact with another human being and Mikey's bigger than him and pressed against his back and he's warm; despite the heat it's not actually _awful._ It's good, more than good. It's what Martin has craved for far too long now.

It's what he _needs._

 


End file.
